Pariah
by Cassend
Summary: Valentine lets out a sigh, most defeated breath ever written, the Crow traces bones under skin, rubs circles into a beaten body. Endless circles, rotations, shapes. -Drabble  Crow Lady and Jill


_ABC- Terse interesting drabble I'm playing with and seeing where it goes. I think I've invented a pairing I want to see exist. Crow Lady x Jill bahahaha... urgh. Drabblefic. Enjoy._**  
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**Pariah**

"Kill him."

One bullet to the head, emotionless liquid steel and a spray poured out of the back. There was no struggle, no sound but the crack-shink of one bullet and the thunk of another carcass.

The next order, hissed, the Crow did not complain, she obeyed. Arms moved mechanically, long black fingers to wrap around the prey, the body.

Soldier, Puppet, Guillotine- perched on the edge of the incinerator, talons, palm to palm with the body, holding a dead man by the wrist before her.

Master says nothing more, nods once. Release.

_Destruction_. Messenger, tool.

She watches the body fall and burn, stands as the scent fills her metal beak and she coughs. The smell is disgusting, repulsive, her eyes water but she bares it and takes draughts. Poisoned oxygen and the soggy taste of smoke.

It's like cannibalism to stand here and watch it, breathe burning flesh - but she follows her master's words.

-flies from his right side when he waves her off.

The scent slides down her throat and burns like a shot of something strong and disgusting- she starts heaving when she enters the elevator.

Body burning is _disgusting_.

The Crow makes her way down hallways, terse thoughts, empty and mindless. Footstep clack on floor, sheet metal tile, exactly one inch of welding between sheets, thorough construction- thoughts without emotion.

Her quarters, five turns after one staircase, a long hallway in the dark-a place to wait, interim between tasks.

It makes her shiver.

_ This room is haunted._

_ She sees things sometimes, when her vision is blurry and there's that ticking in her head._

_ Tick tick. Screaming. _

_ Mutated clock heralding a specter. Screaming._

_ At her._

_ It's everywhere when she's alone._

The Crow holds her mask to her face, still warm metal, cold slippery fabric, weak attempt to hold herself together.

"More adhesive." She sighs, shivering. If only her sweat was glue enough, if only her face would stay on and this room wasn't an echo chamber.

_Crying, wailing._

_ "Just kill yourself!"_

_ Screams like snakebites._

The Crow shakes in her spot, the ticking of the device, the ruby on her chest is too much, she hears that voice, knows it, breathes in the same tune.

_She sees a woman, curled up on her cot, thin, weeping._

_ "Kill yourself." Says this stranger, the ghost._

The Crow watches this stranger in her room. Something ticks, races, her heart?

"Kill yourself."

The Crow watches the woman. Her visitor is naked and abused, a pile of limp limbs and emotions just as bare.

"Valentine?" says the Crow, it sounds familiar, she doesn't know why. It's…

_"You,-" Hisses the woman, her skin blotched with purples and reds. Who is this woman sharing your room? Her skin is the color of bleached bone, lips pink, swollen with bite marks._

_ "-you bitch... why are you doing this?"_

_ Beg for sanity. The Crow trembles and approaches the creature, spirit, manifestation. Has she done something wrong?_

"Valentine." Says the Crow, repetition, of a name, of a name for her visitor. Valentine…

_She's beautiful… this woman… she's scary, she's the stuff of nightmares and dreams. The Crow extends her long claws, her heart feels heavy and sodden with blood, it wants to burst. The drug is running out…_

_ Valentine? _

_ "Valentine." Says the Crow, hand on the shoulder, fingers meant to fit there. Her body aches to see it, guilt eats the Crow and she can't understand why._

_ "… just kill us."_

_ Heartbroken. _

_ Valentine lets out a sigh, most defeated breath ever written, the Crow traces bones under skin, rubs circles into a beaten body. Endless circles, rotations, shapes. _

_ "I'm sorry." Says the Crow._

_ Ticking worsening, heart feels heavier… Flashes of thought, flashes of emotions._

_ Valentine shivers under her touch, skin rolling, bones and ._

_ "No you aren't." she sighs. "You're his... you just accept it? Can't you see what he has done? Why don't you listen? Why don't you fight?"_

_ Screaming, crying, hands clawing in a head._

_ Listless lips bite themselves as the Crow's heart simmers over, bubbles of boiled blood popping, swollen._

_ "I'm sorry..."_

_ Apologies, pathetic whimpers meaning nothing._

_ Valentine watches her from glass doll eyes. _

_ Accusatory._

_ The Crow rubs her shoulders, bony thing with cuts on them that look like artwork._

_ Feels like a thousand scars have become fresh lacerations._

_ "Every day you follow him- you know what he's done! Why don't you fight-"_

_ "Valentine-?"_

_ "Why don't you fight?"_

_ Tick… tick… And then it's no longer "__**now**__", it is "__**then**__", so many years ago._

-Jill Valentine covered in freshly mowed grass and soggy mud, mouth bit in a snarl and lip bashed open. Her hair is shorter than, plastered down with a concoction of dew, sweat, and blades of grass. Those brown locks would be forever fossilized in morning mist and memories.

"Why don't you fight, Valentine?"

Barked, angry. His mouth is dripping with frustration and his own wound, one crack like a whiplash across his cheek from a defiant rock in the ground.

"You have more than the talent! Come at me!"

Her Captain is disheveled and before her, blonde perfect hair not so perfect anymore. He's in his uniform, furious with her, she's uneasily opposing him.

She's shaken from the last case, he's beating her trepidation out of her.

"Captain!" she screams. "This is enough-!"

He snarls as she even thinks about leaving, and throws a punch against her jaw, harder than she expected. It chips her tooth and she gags at the pain. Cops didn't train like this- no, Wesker trained like this.

_ "You will not give me anything less, for any reason… Is that clear?"_

Hiss to which she hissed back and spat on the grass of the training field. Somewhere in the scuffle, he had caught her shin in a horrible way with a kick, and sent her down.

It throbbed horribly, but she pulled herself up.

"Yes… Sir."

"Fight, Valentine!" he roared.

_Why don't you fight, Valentine?_

_ Tick… tick… tick…_

_ The Crow cupped her face._

_ "End this." Valentine sighed. She was so tired, looked so weary. "It's over either way."_

_ The jewel in her chest aches, her body aches from the absence of the drug. _

_ "Because it hurts."_

_ The Crow whimpers. Her heart bleeds endlessly, she feels it trickling down through the fabric of the suit._

_ "I'm sorry."_

_ She presses her beak to the ghost's face, cups it._

_ She really is sorry._

_ "Why don't you fight?" Valentine begs._

_ The Crow lets her kiss the metal beak._

_ A foolish move. Valentine's hands shoot to her neck, talons into skin._

_ Breathless, but the ticking grew softer, the blood flowed less._

_ Mindless asphyxiation._

_ She didn't fight, to end it._

_ The Crow traced Valentine's cheek- she smelled like stale body and cold air- fresh air._

_ Choking to breathe._

_ Jill passed out._

_-the irony…_

"The device must be modified and higher dosages, applied."

Withdrawal was a serious threat.

"Albert- I hardly think…"

"No- you don't."

Bitter. Blood was cleaned from her chest and a fresh machine, a new plate was wired in. Something had ruptured, he chalked it up to a surgical fallacy on Excella's part. The suicide attempt was a direct result of withdrawal, he decided.

She didn't fight him, after all.

_ Not in her right mind, at least._

He put the mask back on her face.


End file.
